Bewitching Familiar Page 16

  Since his revelation, and his acceptance that he was from the future, he’d been paying strict attention to the life of the people around him. If they could only be made to believe that war with the Indians wasn’t necessary, that both cultures could blend and survive, then the entire future of America might be changed. But he’d tried his opinion on a few in the courthouse and found that they looked at him as if he were insane. He’d shut up before he was accused of being a witch’s dupe. And there was always the worry that he and Abigail weren’t supposed to change the future. He and Abigail both knew the witch trials had stopped, and they both felt that they were there to make sure that historically correct turn of events occurred. But what was that turn?

  There had to be a way to make people see right from wrong, but damned if he’d been able to figure out how.

  He went to his office window and looked out. The day was almost over. When he got out of the magistrate’s building and got his hands on Abigail, he’d…he laughed out loud. He’d take every stitch of clothes off her and revel in her beauty. He could only wish that she’d be a little more cautious in her full-tilt charge against the enemy.

  Dusk was beginning to fall, and he found that he could hardly stand still he was so excited about seeing Abigail. He forced himself to wait at the window. Time would not pass faster if he paced. And he wanted to catch sight of Appleton leaving the premises.

  He watched some children in the street, and a dog passing by, its nose to the ground as if it followed an enticing scent. At first he thought he’d imagined a tall, slender woman against the elm tree, but as he looked harder, he recognized Georgianna March. Her back was to the court building, and she was standing as if she waited for someone to meet her.

  Her cloak was pulled up around her face, an obvious attempt to hide herself since the day had been unbearably hot. She started to leave, halted, then started again. She walked at a very fast pace, her long legs swallowing the distance.

  Samuel had the idea that she might be trying to avoid someone. But he was still surprised when Silas Grayson slipped into the scene.

  The farmer-turned-witch-hunter virtually slunk around the corner of the building as he started to follow Georgianna. Samuel leaned forward, his jaw clenched. He saw clearly what was happening.

  Silas was following Georgianna so that he could report on her activities. Then a made-up tale of demons and dancing would be put together for Mary Wadsworth or Emily Waters to repeat, and Georgianna would find herself sharing the dungeon with her sister.

  “And the March property will be put on the auction block.” Samuel spat the words out. “Well, well, Silas, not if I have anything to do with it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Abigail clutched the squaw brush in her hand as she climbed out the window of what had once been Elizabeth Adams’ home. She stifled a scream as two large, green eyes appeared out of the darkness, followed by sharp claws on her leg.

  “Meow!”

  “Familiar!” she chided the cat. “You scared ten years off my life.”

  As she gained her feet in the yard, Familiar began to weave around her legs. Each time she started to move toward home, he nearly tripped her.

  “What is it?” she asked in a slightly irritable tone. She wanted to get to the house and brew a cup of tea with the squaw brush. She wasn’t going to go another hour without knowing for certain if she’d accidentally killed a man. She was positive the herb was a sedative, not a heart stimulant. Even as she held it in her hand, she knew it was harmless. But she was going to prove it to herself, so at least she could trust herself again.

  She had food to prepare to take to the prisoners the next day, and she had to figure out a plan to break into Jonathan Appleton’s quarters to find the map of the area. Living in the seventeenth-century was a real pain.

  Familiar finally fell into step beside her and they hurried back to her house. Abigail had deliberately not told Samuel about her plans for the evening. She knew he would object—strenuously. And she was determined.

  She put the kettle on to heat and prepared the herb. When the water was hot, she poured it over the particles of bark and waited. After it had steeped for five minutes, she took out the bark, added honey, and took a sip.

  “Yuck!” She made a face at the cat, who watched her intently. “This is terrible.”

  Familiar didn’t budge. His golden eyes stared unblinkingly at her as she finished the tea. “Now, let’s figure out how to rob old Appleton of his map.” She yawned and leaned back in her chair.

  Try as she might, she couldn’t get up the energy to prepare the food for the next day or even finish her chores. “Just a little nap,” she whispered as she laid her head down on her arms at the table. “Wake me in an hour, Familiar.”

  I WAS WONDERING how long it would take her to nod off. Good thing squaw brush is just a sedative or she’d “wake up” in another reality. My concern was the sense that someone had been in Elizabeth’s house. I can’t believe Elizabeth would come back a third time, risking capture and death. But who else would have been there? Just about anyone, I suppose. Even old Silas Gruesome might have been poking around. At any rate, she’s taken her tea and proven herself innocent—and knocked out. I could have told her she didn’t poison that guard, but she wouldn’t have listened to me. Humans are so stubborn, especially Madame Mysterious. I think she must have been born in Missouri, because she definitely has that “show me” attitude. She needed a little sleep, anyway, and I need some free time.

  She didn’t bother to bar the door, and it’s easy enough to bump open. Ah, out into the free world. I have to be extremely careful not to be seen. I remember a scene from that wonderful old Boris Karloff movie about Frankenstein where townspeople with torches are all chasing the monster. If any of these Puritans catch sight of me, I have the feeling that they’ll be after me in exactly the same fashion. And we all know what happened to Frankenstein. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

  Puff, puff, this running business is for the birds. The good thing about being black, sleek and feline is that I travel light, fast, and unnoticed. Here’s the building that passes as a courthouse. I can tell by the lack of noise that it’s virtually empty, just the guard at the door. The building is stone, but there’s plenty of space around the window to allow for a smart kitty to gain access.

  Funny thing about those keys I lifted from Appleton’s chambers. Abigail left them in the dungeon, but no one found them, and Appleton didn’t mention that they’d been stolen. That in itself creates some unusual implications. I want to check to see if they were returned. If they weren’t, someone still has them.

  Let’s see, here’s Lord Apple Dumpling’s office. As usual, there is the smell of food lingering in the air. He was here not too long ago and chomping down on, ah, roast beef, potatoes…ah, apple pie and…some type of alcohol that isn’t exactly beer but smells something like it. Part of my ability to reconstruct the menu is my keen olfactory abilities, but the rest is visual. Appleton is obviously a pig. There are splotches of gravy and potatoes on the desk, as well as some apple pie crust. It looks as if he dove into his food with both hands and a trowel.

  Now that I’ve cleared away the food debris, I want to go through this desk. Here’s a list of those who’ve been accused and sentenced. Some ten innocent people. And the list of those in the dungeon is at least seventy-five. Mostly women. I think Abigail might be able to use this. She was also talking about a map. Appleton should have one.

  I see it, nailed on the wall. I suppose tape would have been out of the question. The darn thing is just out of my reach, but I believe I can knock it down. If the edges are a little torn, that’s too bad. I don’t think Abigail and Samuel will be returning it to Apple Butt.

  One, two, three, and a giant leap. Yep, it shredded right off the nails and rolled itself into a neat little scroll. There’s some interesting scribbling on the back, but I think I’ll gather up my map and my list and get out of here while the getting’s good. I’m lucky, bu
t not lucky enough to hang around in the chief witch-executioner’s lair any longer than I have to.

  There is one small thing. An inkwell. And I can’t resist leaving Appleton a little memento. If he wants to persecute people and pretend to believe in devils and fiends and familiars, I’ll give him food for thought. Lucky the cork is loose in the inkwell. Now I just dab my paw in there and press it down on the very expensive paper on his desk. One little, two little, three little cat paws—four little, five little, six little cat paws… There, that should give the old magistrate something to ponder. A circle of cat prints going nowhere. If he doesn’t believe in the devil, he will by the time I finish with him.

  WARM FINGERS touched her shoulder, moving up her neck with a gentle massaging motion. Abigail sighed. She clung to her dream images of a wonderful hot bath with jets of water soothing her tired and aching muscles. Samuel was in the tub with her, and they were smiling at each other. She smiled in her sleep and offered her lips for a kiss.

  “I hope you’re dreaming about me.” Samuel spoke softly and then leaned down to stroke her cheek with his lips. Her face was cradled on one arm and he watched as her mouth lifted to him for a kiss. He gladly obliged.

  Abigail’s eyes opened as he pulled slightly back. “Have I dreamed you?” Her voice was husky with emotion and sleep. “Maybe I’ve dreamed this whole Salem experience.” Her smile was sad. “If that were true, I don’t know if I’d want to wake up from this nightmare, because then I’d lose you.”

  Samuel gathered her into his arms, holding her as tightly as he could. The idea that he might lose her, to the dangers of the present or the future, was too awful to think about. “Whatever the future holds, Abigail, we’ll find each other. I promise you that.”

  She curled her fingers in his hair, feeling again the thick waves that seemed so perfect to her touch. “What are we going to do, Samuel? Things are only going to get worse here. We don’t know how to get back home.” She laughed to fight back the tears. “I don’t even know where home is.”

  “We’ll figure it out. You were so sound asleep, I shouldn’t have awakened you.” He stroked her hair, his fingers brushing her soft cheek. He’d never met a woman so brave, and yet so vulnerable. At this moment she was tired and discouraged. But he had no doubt that she would rally to the defense of any innocent person.

  Abigail’s elbow brushed the empty cup on the table, and she remembered the herbal tea she’d drunk. “I didn’t kill that guard.” Speaking the words out loud made her feel better.

  “I know you didn’t.”

  “No, really. I went back to Elizabeth’s and got more of the squaw brush and made tea for myself. It’s a sedative—nothing more.”

  Samuel started to scold her for taking such a chance, but he wisely kept his mouth closed. She’d already done it, and proven herself innocent. It was something she’d had to do to live with herself.

  “I’m going back to the village tonight to get the map,” Samuel said. He shook his head as she started to protest. “I have more reason to be in the magistrate’s office than you or anyone who might be willing to help us. I can make up an excuse if I’m caught.”

  “Appleton isn’t going to take a lot more from you, Samuel. He’s already looking for any excuse to accuse you.”

  “I know.” Samuel looked out the window and gasped. Two large green eyes stared back at him, and it took a second for it to register that the creature was Familiar. “That cat! He’s going to give one of us a heart attack.”

  Abigail went to the door and opened it, watching as Familiar entered with a rolled-up piece of paper in his mouth. “The Salem delivery service,” she said as she followed the cat to the table where he deposited his burden.

  Samuel was grinning even before he unrolled the map. “And the little devil has even included a list of the accused in scribbled writing. Let’s plot this out.”

  Only the oldest pieces of property were marked on the map, and some had changed hands. Samuel wasn’t sure of every piece, but they were able to place enough to begin to see a pattern.

  “Everything bordering Salem Town, and all of this strip of cultivated land,” Abigail said as she pointed to the map. “You’re right, Samuel, it’s the most valuable property.”

  “With a lot of other property thrown in.” Samuel’s finger moved along the map.

  “This is mine.” Even as Abigail noted the outline of her parcel of land, she felt strange. It wasn’t really hers. Not really. “And here is the March land.” It was easy to see that it was the largest holding and the best situated as far as cultivatable fields and access. It also contained the area where the midnight dancers had met around their bonfire.

  “You’re thinking about the gathering in the woods, aren’t you?”

  Abigail looked up to see Samuel watching her with concern. “I am. I think we need to figure out who was there, other than Silas.”

  “And why they’re meeting. You don’t believe in Satan worshipers any more than you believe in witches.”

  “No, I don’t.” Abigail let that sink in. “But it is a very effective tool of intimidation. We don’t have to believe, but then, we’re not as afraid as the villagers.”

  “It won’t be long before Silas makes his move against Georgianna.”

  Abigail felt alarm. “How do you know?”

  “He followed her home today.” He went to the fire and stirred the embers, then moved the kettle onto them to heat. “I followed him, just to see what he was up to.”

  “And?”

  “He stood in the woods, staring at her house. I couldn’t see his face, but I could tell that he was watching with a lot of intensity. He wants that property. He wants it so bad he can almost taste it.”

  Abigail got two clean cups and brewed tea. Her supply of coffee was gone, and the bitter tea the colonists were drinking left a lot to be desired. Still, it was better than nothing. She put a pot of honey on the table for sweetener and sat down. “I think we should let everyone out of their cells.”

  “A general jailbreak?” The idea had some appeal to Samuel. It would be more justice than the village had seen in a month. At least if they were given their freedom, the accused would stand a chance. They could flee or fight, and he didn’t care which.

  “I don’t know what else to do.” Abigail sipped her tea. “We’ve figured out the motive behind the accusations, but how do Mary Wadsworth and Emily Waters figure in here? They’re children, or at least, young adults. They certainly have nothing to gain. In fact, their lives are ruined. Who would marry a witch-finder?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” Samuel poured the golden honey in his tea and stirred it with a wooden spoon. “They’re obviously pawns, but of whom? Mary’s father has been in the forefront of the hunts.”

  “And Emily’s father?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know anything about him, except he’s a minister.” He looked up. “But Tituba might be able to tell you more.”

  “Tituba.” The name sounded familiar on Abigail’s tongue. “Hester had come here to talk with Tituba about the islands. She was one of the first accused of witchcraft. But when I went down into the dungeon, I didn’t see her.”

  “She’s isolated, and I’m certain she has food.” Samuel stared into his cup. “Appleton provides her with rations.” He looked up. “I honestly think he’s afraid of her.”

  “I’ll talk to her tomorrow when I go down to perform my duties.” Abigail gave Samuel a wan smile. “Somehow, I don’t think my future abilities are in the janitorial area.”

  “No, but I know where they are.” He put his cup on the table. His gray gaze held hers, the desire kindling between them in an instant.

  “You shouldn’t stay here.” Even as she spoke, Abigail knew that he would stay. They had no guarantees on the future—none that they would even see the future they knew. All they had was the moment, and neither was strong enough to deny themselves.

  “If we did what we should and shouldn’t do, we’d be
hightailing it out of this village and living in the woods with Sanshu and Elizabeth.” His rueful smile showed that he had given that idea some serious thought.

  “Why us, Samuel?”

  “That’s one question I have no answer to. Familiar, I understand. It’s almost as if he…has powers.” He shook his head at his own words. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s true. And you… I see a clear determination in you, a strength of principle that makes you perfect for such a chore. You won’t give up. Whether you like it or not, you won’t stop until you put an end to this horror, or…”

  “Or die trying.” It sounded like an epitaph to her own ears. “Why? I’m no crusader. In my real life, I’ve never done anything like this. I know it.”

  “I’ve given it some thought, Abigail. Do you suppose we’re related to some of these people? Maybe we’ve been selected because they’re our predecessors.”

  Abigail leaned forward. “You could be right.” A note of excitement crept into her voice. “I never paid much attention to any of that, but my grandmother was always talking about how we were some of the original settlers. She never said Salem, specifically. I always assumed it was Plymouth Rock.”

  Samuel shrugged. “I don’t even have that much to go on. As a boy I never spent enough time indoors to listen to anything about family or history. I only wish I had a clearer view of what my future life was about.” He gave her a startled look. “The last thing I remember was that we were kneeling in the road, examining Familiar after my car struck him. What if we were run over?”

  Abigail laughed softly. “You mean, we’re dead? Like angels?”

  Her humor touched his and he answered with a chuckle. “Or more appropriately for this time, devils.”

  “How do we tell if we’re immortal? It would certainly make this task we’ve set ourselves much easier if we knew we couldn’t die.”

  Samuel picked up her hand. His fingers smoothed the soft skin on the back. He turned it over slowly, examining the palm where a blister was slowly developing into a callus. “Farm work?”